


Made to Feel

by tessykins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-24
Updated: 2008-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessykins/pseuds/tessykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Because you felt Anna, and she you, and she gave me this. Because you felt, you have me different, made me feel as well.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel finds himself standing in the parking lot of the Winchesters’ motel, not really knowing why.

But Anna is an angel again, and Anna speaks and the angels listen.

Anna speaks about how it is to feel, to love and rejoice and grieve and choose. Among the crowd that listened to her, Castiel felt the silence presence of an Archangel. The presence slipped away and Anna kept speaking, and Castiel was confused. Was not Anna’s decision, her story, heresy? Had not her death been ordered?

She had found him later, afterward. He had not wanted to speak to her, but her time on earth made her implacable. She spoke to him of doubt and choice. Castiel listened despite himself, knowing her words spoke to the seed of doubt growing in his chest. Then Anna spoke of love, of being with another person. And then she spoke of Dean, of gripping him tight and loving him.

Then she leant forward, forehead touching his, and gave him the memory. Castiel gasped at the sensation; Dean kissing his/her lips, calloused hands on his/her skin, his beautiful charge pushing into him/her. Castiel closed his eyes, panting though feelings that angels were never meant to know. His shoulder tingled, and he could feel the ghostly print of a hand on him.

“God is love in all its form,” Anna murmured, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

Castiel looked up at her, blue eyes wide and vulnerable.

“Go to him,” she smiled.

Castiel goes, though he knows not why.

Dean exits his hotel room, leaning back against the door. Then his head jerks up, almost as though he could sense the angel’s presence. “All right,” he snaps. “I know you’re there.”

Castiel steps out of the shadows hesitantly. “I had not thought you would want to see me.”

Dean scowls, and Castiel cannot help but notice that his eyes are red-rimmed and raw. “I don’t, but you’re here anyway, so I might as well deal with you.” A heavy silence falls between them. Dean’s hands twitch against his thighs and Castiel can’t keep his eyes off them, remembering the feel of them on Anna’s skin. “What do you want?”

“I do not know,” Castiel answers honestly.

Dean laughs harshly. “That’s surprising. You’ve never shown up without some orders or predictions of doom and gloom.”

Castiel looks up and meets Dean’s eyes, sees the pain in them. “Anna sent me.”

Dean’s faces harden and he rushes a Castiel. He fists his hands in his jacket and shoves him against the cold metal of the car. “You don’t get to say her name,” Dean hisses. “Not after what you did to her.”

Castiel holds his hands out. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Dean snarls and shoves himself away from him. “That’s right, I forgot. You’re an unfeeling soldier; you don’t get a choice when you’re told to go after one of your own.”

Castiel looks away, looks down. “What happened yesterday…it should never have come to that. I regret that we allowed the situation to get that far out of control.” He pauses knowing he was losing Dean. “I didn’t know Uriel had her grace, I thought it had been lost, I didn’t think it was possible—“ He cuts off. He and Anna had been close, millennia ago; her loss had hurt, and he would have done much to get her back had he known it was possible. “And I feel,” he whispers. “You know I feel.”

Dean sneers. “Oh, yeah, sometimes you doubt God’s plan. That makes me and you so alike,” he spits. “Anna fell because she wanted a choice, she wanted to feel. You just want better orders.”

Castiel sighs. “I no longer know what I want.” His skin feels too tight; he longs for simpler times, when he knew exactly who he was and what his purpose was. Times before Dean, before Anna. He’s hurtling forward now, rocketing towards something he can’t understand. “Anna gave me her memories of you,” he says abruptly.

Dean furrows his brows, not understanding, then comprehension blooms across his face. “Oh, wow. That’s, um, kinky.” He glances up and down Castiel’s form. “I thought you guys were all Ken dolls down here. I mean, that’s a little porny for angels.” He looks aghast.

Castiel smiles mildly. “My vessel is no more sexless than you are.”

“And, so you um,” Dean looks away, obviously uncomfortable. “Like mental angel porn?” He blurts out.

“No,” Castiel smiles and shakes his head. “I experienced what she did, felt what she felt in the moment.” He remembers heat and lust and love and sadness. “She loved you, in a way, and she was grateful that you could give her her last night on earth.”

Dean’s arms are wrapped tightly around himself. “And she felt the need to share with you why?”

Castiel shrugs. “Anna is preaching a new doctrine to the angels.” Dean looks up at that, surprised. “She spoke to us of love, and choice, and questioning. She wants the angels to know humankind. She wants us to feel…” He finishes quietly. He closes his eyes. “Anna is not the first of our kind to feel doubt. She is not the first to want to live among you. I, too, have wanted choice.”

Castiel opens his eyes to meet Dean’s concerned gaze. Castiel feels his heart skip; he hadn’t thought Dean would ever look at him as he once had, not after what had happened. “You wanted to fall?”

“No,” says Castiel. “I have always been loyal to my Father.” He meets Dean’s gaze levelly. “It was not until recently that I began to doubt.”

Dean cracks a ragged grin. “Glad I could be of help there.”

“You are of help,” Castiel affirms. “I feel you like I have never felt before.” His hand wanders up to his shoulder, where he can still feel the ghost of Anna’s memory.

Dean’s eyes follow his hand, then flick to his face. “You do, don’t you,” he says wonderingly. “That’s why she mind-porned you. So you’d feel like it was to be human.”

Castiel leans forward and touches Dean’s shoulder softly, fingers slipping over thin cotton, falling into place above the mark he left on his skin. “Yes,” Castiel smiles sadly, for all this will lead to.

“I feel,” he says, and kisses Dean.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel knows what it is to burn. He had descended into Hell for the sake of Dean Winchester, felt the flames of perdition licking at incorporeal skin.

Kissing Dean burns, but not with the fires of hell.

It is an unknown heat, a delicious burn that creeps up from the core of him, spreading out to fingertips and curling his form’s toes. His hands tingle and, with only Anna’s memories to guide him, he tentatively reaches out to touch.

Dean steps away, breathing harshly, and Castiel can see the panic creeping in at his edges. “What the fuck are you doing?” Dean snaps, sounding more scared than angry.

Castiel tilts his head, uncomprehending.

That seems to anger Dean; his fists clench, bone showing white through skin. “You’re not supposed to be able to do that. Anna said—“

“Anna,” Castiel says levelly, “was wrong. She gave me her memories, she made me feel. What she said does not signify.”

Dean scowls at him. “I don’t understand. Are you saying she was lying?” And Castiel can see how the thought distresses Dean; he had finally found a measure of peace with her, after his confrontation with his supposed saviors and his reunion with his demonic torture. To lose that one measure of salvation, it is unthinkable.

Castiel moves forward, the urge to comfort his charge overruling the awkward space between them. He touches Dean’s chest lightly, waits for the man to meet his eyes. “Anna never lied to you. Most angels never feel anything, much less anything like this.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because you felt Anna, and she you, and she gave me this. Because you felt, you have me different, made me feel as well.” Castiel lifts his hands to touch Dean again, to feel that curious fire in his stomach.

Dean ducks away from his touch. “Angels, real full-blown angels aren’t supposed to do this,” he says with a glare.

“I feel you, inside this skin, in my self. Is this not the appropriate response?”

Dean scrubs a hand over his face, frustrated. “For humans, yeah.” He meets Castiel’s eyes. “Would you burn for this?”

“I do not know,” Castiel answers honestly. “Before I knew you, I would have said yes. But now… Now, I am not so sure.” He looks down at his hands. “When I touch you, it doesn’t feel like a sin. And it is selfish, for I may damn us both. I feel and I need and I fear what that will do to me.”

Dean reaches out, and touches his shoulder. Castiel shivers and gasps at the sensation, skin burning as he had once burned Dean. Surely Heaven cannot approve of the craving that twists in his borrowed gut.

Dean flinches away, hand hovering over the brand Castiel had given him. “I can’t,” he says, weariness and anger weighing down his words. “This—I can’t deal with this—not after today.”

“I know,” Castiel agrees. He knows, but he desperately wants Dean just to allow him this moment.

He reaches out and touches Dean’s face gently. Dean’s eyes close, and his skin is soft beneath Castiel’s fingertips.

They are both lost to this.


End file.
